


stop me if you've heard this one before

by nefertiti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, M/M, Relationship Defining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefertiti/pseuds/nefertiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one of the things that used to worry him about the thought of dating anyone. He doesn’t like distractions and since he and Grantaire have been together Grantaire hasn’t been one. Not really. Sometimes Enjolras would find himself looking across the room and smiling at him or Grantaire would mouth something ridiculously mushy during one of his speeches or he’d just catch Grantaire looking and Enjolras’ sentence would trail off, but he’d always get back on track like it was nothing. He’s never been a real distraction.</p>
<p>And maybe thinking of his boyfriend as a distraction is what’s wrong with this situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stop me if you've heard this one before

Enjolras and Grantaire are standing on opposite sides of the room like it’s a bad country western and they’re about to start pulling out guns and shooting up the place.

There’s a broken wine bottle on the floor and absolute silence in the room as everyone waits for one of them to say something absolutely terrible. The final shot.

 “Grantaire just _get out_ if you have nothing of value to contribute.” Enjolras hisses, the trigger pulled.

“As you wish,” says Grantaire, bowing extravagantly and as he raises his head his eyes are like a flash of fire and then it’s gone leaving Enjolras to wonder if he simply imagined it because Grantaire’s face is carefully blank when he picks up his satchel and walks out.

The room remains silent and people are split between staring at Enjolras, staring at the door or trying to do both. No one says anything as Feuilly packs his stuff and follows after his roommate shooting Enjolras a sympathetic shrug as he goes.

Enjolras turns to face the room and tries to bolster on with his speech but his face is burning with anger as he seethes. Grantaire always does this when everything is going well. He drinks too much, talks too much and undermines Enjolras with every word and in turn Enjolras sees red and snaps. But they haven’t done things this way in so long. Enjolras thought they were getting better. They _were_ getting better.

This is the first time they’ve had any kind of fight at all since they’ve gotten together officially three weeks ago after almost a year of having casual sex that really wasn’t all that casual and Enjolras wonders if they were doing this wrong. They told each other ‘I love you’ before they even started dating. They started having sex long before they started dating. Maybe they didn’t think this through. Maybe they rushed into this too quickly.

He thinks. _If anything they took far too long to make this official._

When he stumbles for the third time Combeferre takes over and Enjolras just sits with a frown on his face. This is one of the things that used to worry him about the thought of dating _anyone_. He doesn’t like distractions and since he and Grantaire have been together Grantaire hasn’t been one. Not really. Sometimes Enjolras would find himself looking across the room and smiling at him or Grantaire would mouth something ridiculously mushy during one of his speeches or he’d just catch Grantaire looking and Enjolras’ sentence would trail off, but he’d always get back on track like it was nothing. He’s never been a _real_ distraction.

And maybe thinking of his boyfriend as a distraction is what’s wrong with this situation.

“Enjolras,” says Combeferre, shaking him out of his reverie. “Are you okay?”

Enjolras smiles and says, “I’m fine.” Which is about as false as his smile, but no one needs to know that. Well Combeferre probably does but he has Courfeyrac waiting for him by the door and he doesn’t need to hear Enjolras whine at him about a fight that he can sort out easily. He’ll be fine. He’ll just give Grantaire and himself a few days to cool off and then everything will be fine.

A few days turn into a week and Enjolras is frustrated. Even before they were together, spending this long without seeing Grantaire used to make him antsy. Needing someone the way he feels like he needs Grantaire unnerves him at times. Enjolras understands needing people. He needs his friends. He needs their input, their opinions, their warmth, sometimes he just needs their presence but he’s always valued his own self sufficiency. He doesn’t like feeling as though he’s _not whole_ just because he doesn’t have one person around.

However, wanting something doesn’t make it suddenly come into existence.

So Enjolras finds himself sitting on the floor in front of Grantaire and Feuilly’s door at three in the morning waiting for Grantaire to come home from his shift at the bar. He’s in ratty sweats. He hasn’t bothered putting his hair in its customary ponytail. It flows past his shoulders and he longs for the safety net of shoes that aren’t flip flops. He’s absolutely certain that he looks ridiculous.

A part of him feels silly. What if Grantaire doesn’t come home tonight? What if he stays the night with Eponine or he makes Feuilly tell him to go away? What if he’s has ruined this irrevocably? The bigger part of him is tired of fighting and even more tired of actively avoiding his boyfriend. It’s ridiculous and cowardly and Enjolras has always loathed cowardice. So when he sees Grantaire bending the corner of the hallway, instead of running away, he scrambles to his feet. He knows the moment Grantaire sees him because he freezes for a brief moment before continuing, slower this time, to the door.

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire asks. His hair is unruly and his clothes are rumpled. His eyes are red rimmed which is brings across a new feeling because Enjolras has never seen him cry before and the fact that he’s been crying makes Enjolras’ heart sink.

His words feel heavy on his tongue. He knows what he wants to say. At least he thinks he does. Looking at Grantaire, he’s not sure anymore but he still manages to blurt out. “Can we talk?”

“If we talk,” Grantaire says and he sounds exhausted which makes Enjolras’ chest tighten even more. “Are we going to argue again?”

Grantaire is as quick to anger as Enjolras which means that they were just as prone to arguing, but sometimes it gets tiring.

The fight, now that Enjolras has given himself the time think about it, was stupid. It was passions flying and anger and careless words and for what? Because Grantaire was in the corner being as raucous as he usually is. The broken wine bottle wasn’t even Grantaire’s fault as Bossuet told him later with a guilty look in his eyes.

Enjolras sighs. “I really don’t want to.”

“Okay.” Grantaire nods and he searches through his pockets for the keys. “Come in then.”

Once they’re inside Grantaire takes off his jacket carelessly and tosses it over the back of the settee. He kicks his shoes off and sits on the sofa.

“Where’s Feuilly?” Enjolras asks.

“He’s staying over at Ep’s tonight.”

“Okay. That’s-” Enjolras starts, still standing by the door. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Had a fight?” Grantaire’s face twists in confusion. “Because I’m sure we do that a lot.”

“Not like this.” Enjolras says stepping towards Grantaire tentatively. “Not since we’ve been- I’ve never dated anyone before. This is new to me okay. I don’t mean to fuck up.”

“Well since we’re owning up to our shit I was being a right twat too.” Grantaire says, smiling humourlessly. “But you can’t- I need you to not- You’re right we should talk. Sit.”

Enjolras complies, sitting next to him on the sofa. Grantaire turns to face him and he reaches out to cup Enjolras’ face with a small, tentative smile.

People think of Grantaire as unattractive and Enjolras has no idea where that notion comes from. Sure he isn’t the traditional picture of beauty but Enjolras thinks he’s stunning, especially when he smiles. Everything about him is beautifully expressive from his eyes to the curve of his lips from the ease with which his cheeks flushes to the way he twists his short, curly hair in his fingers when he’s nervous, to the way he hunches in on himself when he thinks he’s done something wrong.

Grantaire looks at Enjolras sort of twitchily, his eyes darting from side to side and for some reason that makes Enjolras want to beg into his skin and stay there forever but instead Enjolras forces herself to stay still and look at the dark haired man in askance.

“Tell me.” Enjolras says, pressing his face into Grantaire’s hand. He smells like beer and cigarette smoke like he usually does when he’s just come home from work and Enjolras wants to breathe it in.

“It’s nothing.” Grantaire says shaking his head. He strokes Enjolras’ cheekbone and his hand falls back into his lap.

“It’s not _nothing_. Tell me.” Enjolras repeats firmly. No part of him is touching Grantaire anymore and he feels bereft.

Grantaire sighs and shakes his head somewhat fondly. “You’re always going to be you aren’t you?”

“I hadn’t planned on changing anytime soon.” Enjolras says carefully, hesitation creeping into his voice. “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No!” Grantaire replies urgently, inching closer to him, until their knees bumped together. “Never. I love you just as you are. I promise.”

“I was never worried about that,” Enjolras lies even as he sighs with relief. “I love you just as you are too.”

They could just reach out and touch the other right now, the urge is palpable and Enjolras can see the way Grantaire’s fingers twitch like they do when he wants to lace them between Enjolras’ but he refrains from doing it so Enjolras does too.

“I’m- You do?” Grantaire asks with a hopeful tinge to his voice. “Wait no, don’t answer that. I know you love me. As hard as it is for me to believe sometimes, I know you do. I just. We’re never going to change are we,” Grantaire’s tone grows contemplative. “I never expected us to but I think it hit me for the first time that we’re always going to be like this. We’re always going to argue. We’re always going to get on each other’s nerves. We’re always going to yell and say god awful things and then avoid each other. We’re just always going to be like this. And I don’t want that.”

Enjolras’ voice catches in his throat. “What do you mean?”

It’s a stupid question. He knows what Grantaire means. Enjolras is a shit boyfriend. He knows it and Grantaire knows it from firsthand experience. He’s tired of him. Grantaire’s tired of him and he can’t blame him. Enjolras didn’t think they’d reach to this point so soon. He didn’t think they’d reach to this point at all actually. When Enjolras puts his heart into something, that’s where it stays. He doesn’t know how to pursue anything without putting all of himself in it. Relationships are no different apparently. It’s strange. It’s thoughtless of him truth be told. He has contingency plans for every aspect of his life. Every aspect except this one. He’s not freaking out, except for the part where he is.

Some of this must show on his face because Grantaire is looking at him carefully, closing all distance between them and rubbing the space between his shoulder blades.

“Enjolras are you okay?” Grantaire asks, his voice filled with concern. Enjolras turns to look at him and he looks everything the picture of the doting boyfriend and Enjolras wants to lean over and kiss him, he barely needs to move an inch. He can feel Grantaire’s breath against his face and he longs to feel it in his mouth. To have Grantaire breathe into him. To kiss him so thoroughly and for so long that they pant against each other, waiting to catch their breath before reclaiming each other’s lips again and forgetting the necessity for air once more.

Except he doesn’t. Because he has no idea what’s happening now and he _needs to know_.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Grantaire’s eyes widen and he stops kneading his back. “No. Enjolras. Of course not. As if I ever could.”

“Then what is this about?” Enjolras asks despairingly. “Because I’m confused.”

“I am too?” Grantaire asks more than he says. “I’m trying to- Jesus why am I so bad at this?”

“Bad at what? What are you trying to say because I need you to say it clearly before I-”

“You’re amazing,” Grantaire blurts out and Enjolras gapes. Grantaire’s cheeks begin to redden and he carries on quickly. “I could never break up with you. I love you. I’ve always loved you. You know that. I know that. Everyone who has ever met me knows that. At this point, me saying it is redundant but I love you.”

“I love you too,” Enjolras adds.”And I never want you to stop saying it.”

Enjolras takes Grantaire’s hand in his and twines their fingers together and he feels more relaxed than he has in a week. Just with this. He could stay like this, just the two of them, forever and it makes him want to run away. It makes him want to curl up next to Grantaire and never move. It makes him want.

Grantaire smiles down at their hands and he seems more confident as he continues. “It’s more than that though. You’re my lobster. And I know you understand that reference. Everyone understands that reference. You’re my lobster. I want to be with you forever. I mean I’m not proposing or asking you to move in with me or anything. That’s ridiculous. We’re only just sorting ourselves out, but when we were fighting and we weren’t talking to each other I missed you so much. It was only a week but I had to talk myself out of just showing up outside your doorstep more than a dozen times. The only reason Feuilly’s at Eponine’s right now is because he’s a saint who’s had to deal with me all week. Apparently I’m insufferable when we fight. When I saw you sitting there tonight I wanted to just jump into your arms and stay there. And it’s a terrifying feeling okay. I’ve always known how much and how completely I belong to you. But this is different. This is. I know we’re going to fight. We’re us. But avoidance and the silent treatment can’t be a part of our relationship because being away from you is painful. And I never expected that. I never expected to love you as much as I do you know? But expectation is irresolute in more ways than one and I don’t want it to guide me so. And this is all probably sounding ridiculous. I just called you a crustacean for Christ’s sake but I just want you so badly it fucking kills me. I want to be around you so badly it fucking-”

Enjolras cuts him off with a kiss. He doesn’t know if he wants Grantaire to stop talking or if he just wants Grantaire but he knows if he doesn’t kiss him right in that moment, he’d die. And he isn’t one for melodramatics. Grantaire hesitates only for a second before snaking his hands up his back, curling his hands through Enjolras’ loose hair and kissing him back. Enjolras tilts his head back and lets Grantaire slip his tongue inside his mouth. He feels warmth in the pit of his stomach, in the deepest depths of his skin.

Enjolras tries to put the forcefulness of everything that he’s feeling inside of the kiss. His hands grip Grantaire’s forearms, digging into the skin and he pushes his head forward, turning their sweet kiss into one of aggression. Grantaire catches on quickly and the tender stroking of Enjolras’ hair turns into a tug. Enjolras mewls and he feels his cheeks heat but refuses to let go of Grantaire. He could feel Grantaire smile and he shivers. Grantaire twines his hair in his hand and pulls harder and the jolt of pain makes Enjolras let out a strangled moan. Grantaire uses that to his advantage to tears his mouth away from his, he trails kisses down his jaw and Enjolras pants.

 “Damn you,” Grantaire breathes. He noses Enjolras’ neck before pulling away.

Grantaire smirks smugly at Enjolras’ appearance and if Enjolras looks anything like Grantaire does, he looks _wrecked_.

Enjolras tries not to focus on the pink of Grantaire’s cheeks, or how red bitten and swollen his lips are or how disgustingly kissable he looks. He wonders how much he could get him to bite his lips if he falls to his knees right now and lets Grantaire fuck his throat sore. If he strokes himself to completion as he teases his mouth around Grantaire’s cock. He wonders about the noises Grantaire would make, whines and whimpers, when he starts to moan around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through him.

He only realises that he’s said some of this aloud when Grantaire stares at him open mouthed.

“Fuck,” Grantaire says, his voice still breathy. “I’m way too tired for sex but I don’t think you understand how much I want you inside me right now.”

Enjolras leans in and kisses him chastely. “I’ll fuck you in the morning.”

“Oh promises, promises.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling and Enjolras feels so much lighter than he has in the past week. “It’s morning time already.”

Enjolras looks at his watch and he’s right. It’s almost five.

He takes Grantaire’s hand again and leads them to Grantaire’s bedroom. They can at least get a few hours of sleep in. The room is tiny like the rest of the flat. There’s only a bed jammed up against the wall, a table next to it and a bookcase in the corner. Grantaire’s wardrobe is the floor and the only mirror in this place is in the bathroom.

Enjolras grabs a ponytail holder from the table next to the bed and lets Grantaire sweep his hair up into a bun, relishing in the way Grantaire massages his scalp and runs his fingers through his hair slowly as he does it.

The lie next to each other in the dark. Grantaire is shorter than him but when he wraps his arm around his waist, Enjolras feels safe. Grantaire tugs him closer and Enjolras burrows himself into his warmth.

“You’re my lobster too you know.” Enjolras mumbles, pressing back into the comfort of Grantaire’s body heat as he drifts to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i just really wanted a fic where grantaire tells enjolras he's his lobster. if for some indecipherable reason you don't understand the lobster reference. it's from friends.
> 
> phoebe: hang in there, it's gonna happen (about ross and rachel)  
> ross: okay, now how do you know that?  
> phoebe: because she's your lobster... come on your guys, it's a known fact that lobsters fall in love and mate for life. you can actually see old lobster couples walkin' around their, tank holding claws
> 
> basically your lobster is your soul mate.


End file.
